Perfectly Imperfect

Treintaidos: Bruises

Joey's POV
  I walked up to Sam and Corey, who were leaning against their lockers.

  Sam pushed herself off them, so that she was standing up straight. "Hey, have you seen Carmen? She forgot her sun glasses at my place, and I haven't been able to reach her to tell her," she said, with the slightest shake in her voice. something's bothering her.

  Probably the same "something" that's bothering all of us.

  Carmen hasn't answered any of our calls. The responses stopped when she went home yesterday.

  We stood staring at each other. All of us thinking the same thing, but no one being sure enough to say anything on the unbearably touchy subject. As if saying it out loud will make it undeniably more real.

  Because, no, it's not real now. This is the kind of thing you only read about, or hear about happening to other people, people who have no affect on your life. Like when you hear about kidnappings, and murders. . . And parents beating their kids. You might feel sorry for that stranger on the news. You might pray to whatever god you believe in for that random kid you heard about on the radio, but you never actually have to deal with it directly. Not until, it happens to you or somebody you're close to.

  The odds are like a bazillion to one, so you're not crazy for thinking it will never happen to you, but here I am. Here we are. Here Carmen is, with her mischievous/goofy grin twenty-three/seven, secretly going through h3ll.

  Sam turned towards the window. "Speak of the devil," she mumbled, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  Corey and I looked in that direction and saw Carmen basically limping up the steps. With every step her face would recoil in discomfort. Her gaze landed on us through the glass, and she immediately straightened up and plastered a smile on her face.

  We stayed glowering at, not so much her, but her state, until she reached where we are.

  She got to the door and pushed it open. "Hey guys," She said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

  "Hey, you left your glasses at my house." Sam handed her her sun glasses. "I tried to call you and tell you, but—"

  "Oh yeah, um, I had... homework to do last night," she halfheartedly explained away the situation.

  None of us lightened up.

  None of us believed it.

  Yet, none of us said anything.

  Are we just going to pretend nothing is happening to keep the peace? Is this what will happen every time?

  Oh god.

  Every time.

  This isn't the first time this has happened to her. . . And it's probably not the last.

  That's not okay!

  There shouldn't even have been a first time! Let alone a second, or a third, or fourth, or fifth, or the countless of others that probably followed after that.

  She doesn't deserve it. No one deserves that, but especially not her and her cheeky smiles and kind heart.

"Wait, what class did we have homework in?" Sam asked in a monotone voice, playing along.

"Extra credit," Carmen lied easily.

We stayed silent, eyeing each other.

"Okay, we'll go with that." Corey paused. "For now."